Moments
by par'carpedium
Summary: The companion to my other story Living. More on the pregnancy and Eames and Arthur's married life. I'd highly recommend reading Living first. It may be a bit confusing otherwise. mpreg. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

This is the sequel/prequel-or a supplement to Living. Its more on the pregnancy because there wasn't much in the first. Well, here it goes.

**Moments**

Arthur sat down in the expensive silk chair.

"This is nice."

"I have some important things to say. I'd like it if you're comfortable."

What was that supposed to mean?, Arthur thought. But he got distracted by the posh restaurant decor.

"Arthur..."

"Hmmm?"

"We've been dating for a couple a years now..."

"Yes?"

"And when people are together for a while they tend to...you know-Aren't you warm? I'm warm. Don't they have an air conditioner?"

Arthur glanced at the air conditioner behind him and gave Eames a suspicious face.

Eames ignored it. "Arthur we've been together for awhile," Eames started again, "and so I think its about time to-"

He didn't have to finish the sentence. Arthur had imagined this moment many times. He knew Eames very well and it could only be expected. Eames was a forger, always changing, shifting. When he was much younger that was okay. He'd been living in the fast track too. But now he had fallen into the too familiar track of normality. He figured it would only be so long before Eames would say the words.

He had known Arthur for too long. He had gotten bored of him. He was letting him go.

"You don't have to say it. I know."

His words through Eames in for a loop. "You do? How'd you-"

"If you're interested in seeing other people..."

"_What?_ Why would I do that?"

"Because..." Arthur paused for a moment, gathering himself, then he continued his sentence. "You're trying to break up with me."

"What?...oh shit." 'He smoothed his hair back with his sweaty palms, frustrated with himself. This wasn't going the way he planned. He started again once more.

"I'm not breaking up with you. I-Arthur you have to understand that I-"

The point man had enough. He wanted to make things easier for himself and get this over with quickly. He didn't want to be here anymore. He needed to get away from here.

"If you're not breaking up with me, then what are you doing?"

"Arthur-"

His face grew red in anger. Did Eames find it funny to play around with him like this?

"If you think that'd I would be so stupid not to realize-"

"Marry me."

That shut him up.

After a few moments that to Eames seemed to have last forever, Arthur broke the silence with "What?"

He had said it. There was no second-guessing, no going back now. "I'm asking you to marry me. I didn't think you'd want me to, but if you want me to go down on one knee-"

"Don't."

Eames smiled. "I figured as much. You don't have to answer right now, but-"

"Yes."

Eames stared at Arthur dumbly, not registering the words.

Now Arthur was grinning. "Yes, I'll marry you."

"Oh. That's good. God, I really fucked this one up didn't I? For once I planned to-"

"It's okay," Arthur said while taking a sip of his Chardonnay. "It was perfect."

* * *

Arthur looked at the small red sneakers. "These are nice, Ariadne. Thank you."

Adriane smiled cheerfully. Eames opened a blue package-Cobb's gift. "Oh...Cobb...you out did yourself." Cobb had bought the cradle Arthur had put on the list.

"You said you needed it."

Arthur murmured approvingly. Investigating the cradle, he gave Yusuf's baby shower gift to Eames to open.

The forger held the small glass bottle and looked at the chemist inquisitively.

"Sedative. For the baby. If he's crying too much. Don't worry. It won't harm him, it only lasts for a couple of hours, and there is only enough for one emergency."

He and Arthur shared a glance. "Thank you, Yusuf."

But they weren't going to use it. It sounded sort of illegal.

They had finished all the gifts for the baby shower Adriane insisted they have...except for Saito. Though there wasn't anything in the room, they knew he had one. He wouldn't be Saito if he didn't.

"So Saito," Eames asked, "Where's your gift?"

Saito gave him a look like he had just started to pay attention. "Mine? It's outside."

The crew was presently examining Saito's handiwork. An Audi R-8.

The phrase "Holy shit", were all Yusuf and Eames could muster.

"That wasn't on the list," said Cobb matter-of-factedly. "We were supposed to get things from the list."

"Saito we talked about this!" Ariadne fumed. "You were supposed to bring a SMALL gift for the BABY."

Saito gave her an innocent look. "I did. Its just a car. Now the baby has transportation."

"You do know he won't be able to drive for the next sixteen years," Arthur pointed out.

Saito shrugged.

"Sure, Christopher won't be" Eames said, gazing the Audi over. "But _I_ can."

* * *

"Yusuf called," Arthur told Eames as the forger entered the living room. "He said-oh fuck."

"He said _what?_"

"He said-oh God we're late! Damnit!"

"Still not getting you."

"Seriously Eames? We're late for those pregnancy classes Adriane signed us up for!"

Eames looked at his watch. "Oh. There are twenty minutes left. We might be too late..."

"Get the car."

Eames sighed. He was hoping he wouldn't say that.

"So what did Yusuf call about?" Eames asked, fastening his seatbelt.

"Drive now. Talk later."

* * *

He was too big to fit in anything he owned. He threw a shirt out of the closet in frustration.

"Doesn't fit?"

"No."

"Want to try on the clothes Ariadne got you?"

"Only on my death bed." Those clothes were too horrible for Arthur to even describe.

Eames didn't say anything. Arthur would wear them when got desperate enough.

* * *

"How can you eat that?," Arthur said, looking at the cereal that he swore was just a bag of sugar.

"You have pistachio icecream, I have Choco Chocolatey Choc Puffs."

"Still gross."

"I love you too."

"Put this in."

Eames looked at the bag. Spinach. More vegetables. He inwardly groaned. "Will we be vegetarian again for dinner? Wait. Will we be vegan? Or maybe if we really lose our minds, we can get our supper from basking the sunlight like a fucking daffodil."

"You know I have to be on a diet for the baby."

"That isn't stopping you from getting that ice cream!"

"I'm tired and achy all day long. I need to treat myself sometimes."

"Well I do too!"

"You're not the one whose pregnant here."

"No. But I'm the one who has to deal with you all day..."

"Excuse me? You-oh." Arthur stopped mid rant and put his hand on his belly.

"What's wrong? Did the baby-" Eames was interrupted mid sentence as Arthur put took Eames hand to put it on his stomach.

"Oh."

"Isn't that amazing?" Christopher had stopped kicking, but the sensation lingered on his fingertips.

Eames nodded, still caught up in wonder of the moment. He was so awestruck he didn't notice when Arthur put artichokes in the cart.

* * *

Arthur dropped his water. "Get the suitcase."

Eames eyes widened. "Are you?"

"Going into labor?" Arthur clutched his stomach. "Yes."

"..."

"Eames?"

"Yes?"

"Suitcase."

"Oh right. Sorry! Where'd I put it? Oh god-"

"By the door. Stay calm."

* * *

"ARGHHH!"Arthur hollered. He was sweaty. He was in pain. He needed this baby cut out of him now. He squeezed Eames' hand tighter.

Eames winced. After the doctor got done with Arthur, he might have to look at his hand. "Relax, Arthur. Keep breathing like the nurse told you. Remember what you said? About being calm?"

Arthur, with great difficulty, hoisted himself up to stare Eames down.

"Shut up!"

* * *

"He's all cleaned up. You guys can hold him now. Call me if you need anything." The nurse left the baby in Arthur's arms and exited the room.

Arthur took a good look at the baby-his son. "He looks a lot like you," he told Eames, who was currently sitting in the chair beside him. "He's got your eyes."

Eames softly stroked Christopher's pudgy cheek. "You're right," he answered. "But he has your ears."

"I know, my elf ears. But they look good on him though. Can't imagine anyone else pulling them off better."

"Legolas?"

Arthur smirked. "Well, any actual humans. Do you want to hold him?"

Eames nodded. In a few moments Christopher was in his arms. Eames marveled at the pink squished up face, the tiny fingers, the little eyelashes. He was...wonderful.

He turned to give him back to Arthur, but he was already fast asleep. He'd had a long day.

"Thank you,"he said, barely noticing how broken the words came out. He held Christopher a little tighter. "Thank you Arthur."

* * *

"He won't stop crying..." Arthur was tired. And it was late.

Eames groaned. "I'm surprised he hasn't choked up his lungs yet. You know we still have Yusuf's-"

"No."

"Just saying," Eames explained. "Wasn't actually thinking about it."

Though he was.

As a extra loud wail came from Christopher's room, Eames grumbled into his pillow. "I'm buying ear plugs tomorrow."

* * *

Eames was reading a newspaper while Christopher was playing on the floor. When he put the newspaper down to take a sip of his coffee, he saw Christopher standing along the couch. This was normal. He'd been doing that for weeks now. But then, with a great deal of effort, Christopher was sliding, not leaning, using the couch to support himself. This was a new development.

"Arthur!" Eames hollered. "Come quick!"

Arthur came rushing out of the office. He hoped that what ever Eames called him for was important. "I hope this is importan-"

Christopher was walking. Well to be fair, more like waddling. He moved past the couch, standing on his own.

"Come here Christopher!" Arthur said, his workload forgotten.

Hearing his father, Christopher started to teeter his direction. But after a few steps, his behind quickly collided with the hardwood floor. It was rather loud smack, and Christopher began to cry.

Eames picked him up, trying to sooth him with whispered words, and Arthur went to find Christopher's favorite toy.

They'd both remember this day forever.

* * *

"Its been awhile..." Eames coyly told Arthur when Christopher was out of earshot.

Arthur smiled seductively, "You're right. Maybe..."

"Tonight we can..."

"Just be home early." Arthur huskily whispered into his ears.

When he negotiated like that how could Eames possibly not?

He'd finished negotiations on his next job quickly, though effectively. Or perhaps he did rush through them a bit. But it wasn't normal that opportunities such as these came up. Christopher was practically glued to Arthur and it was hard to get his husband alone.

As he drove to their home while he walked down the hall, he imagined how Arthur would look, spread out on his bed, a lascivious look in his eyes. With notable eagerness, he opened their bedroom door.

"Arthur I'm..."

Arthur was spread out on the bed all right-but he was snoring too.

'Not today', he mumbled bitterly. When Arthur snoring got rather loud, he noticed how the bed covers had slipped off the point man. He silently moved towards the side of the bed and returned the blanket to Arthur's shoulders.

He looked...peaceful. Arthur had been working a lot lately. But at it seemed that right now he was getting some well deserved sleep-something his body told him as he let out a deep yawn, he needed to get to.

Eames crawled into the bed, wrapped his arms around his husband, and promptly joined him in slumber.

Perhaps, Eames thought faintly as his mind went dark, they'd try again another day.

* * *

"Darling! NO!" Arthur had never reacted so fast.

But it was too late. The new white rug he bought was now covered in yellow liquid. The Labrador whimpered.

Christopher smiled at his father apologetically. "I'm sorry, Mommy."

Though it almost killed him to say it, with some effort he got the words out. "Its...okay."

* * *

Christopher woke up in the middle of the night. It was happening again for the second day in the row. A thunderstorm.

He wanted to cry, but he was going to be a big boy. Next time the lightning flashed by his window, he'd count the seconds to the thunder like Daddy told him. He'd feel safer then. Mommy told him he couldn't be struck by lightning where they lived. There were taller things the lightning could hit, and that lightning striking people is already rare.

I won't be struck by lightning. I won't be struck by lightning. I won't be struck by-He ducked under his covers. The thunder had been especially loud this time.

He wanted to be a big boy and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. His lip trembled, and Christopher started to cry. He was so disappointed in himself.

"What's wrong Christopher?" said Arthur sleepily, entering Christopher's room.

He'd been heard.

"Is it the lightning again? Did you remember what we-"

Christopher tried to stop the tears from coming but he was too scared. "I did but-"

"You're still afraid?"

Christopher could only nod.

"Here. Come on."

Christopher followed his father into his parent's bedroom.

"Can't sleep?" Eames yawned. Arthur nodded. Eames lifted up the blanket so that Arthur and Christopher could get under it.

Knowing he was safe now, Christopher went to sleep.

* * *

Eames was drained. Working did that to him often. When he was by himself, his work was his best friend. With a husband and a son, he couldn't devote the same level of commitment. He wanted to see them again. He'd been gone for too long.

As he passed through immigration, he couldn't help but think of Cobb. He hadn't understood what it meant then, but now it was different. He didn't think he could live with the idea he may never see his kids again. He would never be able to deal with losing someone like Mal. If he lost Arthur...he knew he'd lose himself, in a maze more intricate than anything Ariadne could come up with.

"Daddy!" There they were, waiting for him at the baggage claim.

Christopher ran into his arms.

"You're back," Christopher said.

"I'm back," he whispered into his ear.

* * *

I enjoyed writing this. Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello! Haven't seen you in a while. I finally finished the second chapter! Props to my beta sheepsoup for cleaning this fic up. Much appreciated.

**Memories**

They had finished what they had come for. Arthur took the equipment out of his left arm, picked up his bag, and began walking towards the nearest exit.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Eames, he thought, without even having to look around. This was starting to become a routine.

"Wait up, love. You're always in such a hurry to leave. Really, just when I was about to ask you out for a drink-"

"Can't. I have stuff to do." He removed Eames' hand from his shoulder.

Eames chuckled, but the noise came out more forced than he had intended it to. "You always seem to."

Arthur was already out the door.

* * *

This had been happening for awhile now. After every job, Eames would ask Arthur out for a drink. Arthur would refuse and leave. But Eames would ask the next time.

He didn't know what to think of the forger-he just felt invaded somehow, as though Eames had invaded his privacy, his sanity. He had found a way into him, smuggling himself there, with endearments and light hearted remarks. He was there. And it scared him. It made him feel vulnerable.

Vulnerability was weakness.

"Not tonight. I have stuff to do." His typical answer.

Eames didn't stick around. When Cobb asked him if he needed a ride, he said he was going to flag down a cab.

But it was raining too hard for Arthur's tastes. He took Cobb up on his offer.

* * *

They didn't speak much after jobs. They didn't speak out of work in general.

Arthur put on his seatbelt and Cobb put the car key in the ignition.

"He cares for you."

"I've heard." Adriane had already talked to him about it, and Yusuf had alluded to it in a conversation. It was rather strange hearing it from Cobb though.

He thought Cobb knew how to stay out of business that didn't concern him.

"Heard, but not listened."

"I have listened," Arthur replied curtly. "I just don't care."

"Really. I think you do."

"Have you been snooping in my dreams Cobb?", Arthur sardonically answered. " Now you think I'd be interested in the petty games Eames likes to play?"

"He's not playing, Arthur. He cares for you."

"Enough. I already have heard that."

He just couldn't believe it.

The car was silent. Arthur entertained himself by looking at the rain fall against the window.

Cobb breathed deeply, so that the sigh was audible. "I don't usually get into people's business. You know me."

Arthur remained mute.

"It's just-Arthur look. You can't block everyone off. You can't act like what's there isn't. You can't disguise your fears, your feelings-your desires. Trust me. I've tried."

Arthur's eyes found solace in the never-ending line of traffic. "I don't trust him...with my life yes...but with this..."

"But you care."

Cobb didn't receive a reply, so he took the silence as a confirmation.

"Arthur, I trust you to make your own decisions, but sometimes you have to take a chance on what you want. Sometimes you have to take that leap of faith to be happy."

"You can drop me here."

The rain didn't bother him anymore. He just had to get away from Cobb-Eames-everyone.

* * *

"Sure."

He had said it. There it was. He looked into Eames' eyes. The man could barely hold back how shocked he was that Arthur had said what he had said.

But he recovered quickly. "That's...good then." Bloody marvelous actually.

"Whatever. Let's go."

Every ounce of logic in his head told him how big of a mistake this was, how Eames would betray him someday. But Arthur, more than anything, wanted some happiness for himself. And Eames...he made him smile.

He wouldn't take a leap, but he'd take the first step.

* * *

How did this start? Arthur wasn't sure. All he knew was that instead of getting ready for their next job, the team was playing Monopoly. Normally he would have been rather alarmed by this, but right now he was too busy winning to care.

"Four, five, damn!" Ariadne had landed on Boardwalk again.

Arthur smiled evilly. He had a hotel on that space. "Pay up."

Ariadne shot him a helpless look. "Arthur! I'm barely surviving! I can't possibly pay that without going bankrupt!"

"She's right. Your rent is too high." Yusuf added in bitterly. He had been the first player to go.

"No exceptions, Ariadne. Pay up or take a loan."

"But you _add_ interest! If I land there again how will I pay you back?"

"Don't know. Not my problem."

With a great deal of reluctance, Ariadne took the two hundred dollar bills in Arthur's hands. She'd survive somehow.

It was Cobb's turn. Ariadne handed him the dice. As his piece reached its destination on the board, Arthur couldn't help but wonder. Could his luck be so bad that it would occur for the fourth time?

Cobb held up the orange card and proceeded to read it out loud. "Go directly to jail. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars." He sighed. "Yes, I have awful luck." He handed the dice to Saito so he could move back to jail.

Saito landed on Boardwalk.

"Pay up, Saito."

Saito grudgingly gave Arthur his payment. If only they could use real money in this game...

"My turn," Eames chirped. Continuing to curse Arthur under his breath, Saito gave him the dice to roll.

After rolling, Eames moved his playing piece. And landed on Boardwalk.

"Darling, I'm incapable of paying this."

"That's what I said!" Ariadne agreed. Yusuf and Saito nodded approvingly. Poor Cobb hadn't stayed out of jail long enough to have an opinion.

"Doesn't matter Eames. Pay up or take a loan." He wouldn't use them would he? Arthur hoped his words would be enough.

They weren't. "But darling...If you take just a bit off I can definitely pay you..." He gave Arthur his patented puppy eyes, which always worked when Eames wanted to change the channel.

Arthur groaned. Eames was giving him the puppy eyes. _How does he do that? _

He tried to resist, but Eames added in a little whine.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Fine," Arthur said. "I'll take off a hundred, but that's it."

Eames couldn't tear the grin that was on his face as he took the fake money.

Yusuf spit out his soda. Ariadne's eyes could not hold back her shock. Saito raised an eyebrow. Even Cobb gave Arthur a strange face.

"What?"

Arthur ignored the mumbling about the unfairness in his decision and rolled the dice.

* * *

"Are you still on the road? You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I'm stuck in traffic. I'll be there in a bit." He hung up. Arthur had been stuck at this intersection for fifteen minutes now. This area was really packed. Was there a game or something? He heard his phone go off. Eames was calling again. He picked it up.

"So where are you now?"

"A couple blocks away. Eames, I told you. I'll be there in a bit."

"I hope so. The food is getting cold."

Arthur was taken aback for a brief moment. He pretty sure Eames would never do that to him, but just in case…

"You didn't…cook did you?"

Eames burst into laughter. "No, I did not. I love you Arthur, I don't want to kill you."

Silence.

Fuck. Did he just say what he thought he just said? His own words replayed in his mind. _I love you Arthur. _

He hadn't planned on telling him this way, but it was out now. And he wasn't going to take back something he meant.

"I…you know I mean that don't you?"

Though there was no answer on the other end, he knew Arthur was still there. He hadn't wanted to scare him by moving too fast or anything…but he really did love him…a lot.

A lot?

He wished his charm would come back right now. He was really missing it. The only way he could describe his dying passion was "a lot?"

Arthur who was brilliant,

Arthur, who was always trying to do everything on his own,

Arthur, who endorsed no fun whatsoever,

Arthur, who had an enormous stick up his ass and only ever talked about work and always made him so confused and made him do something stupid and made him feel like a fool and made him so mad that he wanted to forget he ever cared until he grinned at one his god awful jokes(he made jokes when he was nervous) and smiled that smile which always threw him off balance and always made him wonder how something so normal, so simple, could be so…perfect.

Being in that moment…he couldn't describe that. Moments like those couldn't be written in words. They could only be lived, felt, and remembered. He could write a short novel, but it never would be the same.

It could never be enough.

"I love you…a lot."

After some prolonged quietness he heard the words "I see…thank you then."

_Thank you?_ Eames couldn't help but to laugh wholeheartedly at that. Yup. He _really_ loved this man. "That's wonderful darling. Now, get your ass over here soon or I'll eat your share of dinner."

"Hey! I told you I'm almost there!"

* * *

"Are you sure he'll like this?" said Yusuf. He had felt the wrath of Arthur and would very much like to avoid it.

"Of course," Eames coolly responded. "Arthur loves birthdays."

Arthur _hated_ birthdays. He hated the idea of them-celebrating your birth-it seemed like an excuse for lazy people to sit around and eat cake. He hated buying presents that no one appreciated, candle wax on tables, and the horrid noise that emanated from people's mouths as they to no avail tried to convince you that their shrilling was the birthday song. He hated how he always forgot them, and how annoyed people got when he did. He hated buying and receiving those obligatory saccharine birthday cards, the awful kisses, those horrendous smiles. He hated birthdays in general but he hated his own with more intensity. Which was why whenever Eames asked when his was, Arthur wouldn't tell.

He knew how Eames would act on it if he knew. That knowing smirk would almost certainly cross that face, as he thought how he would celebrate it. It would be obnoxious. He would probably sing the birthday song on voicemail, once or twice-who was he kidding? He'd probably fill the entire thing. He would most definitely buy him a present-something ridiculous, like a pack of disgusting Hawaiian shirts or a dildo. He shuddered at the thought. Eames was...weird.

But there was one thing Arthur could be sure of if he told Eames his birthday. He knew this without a doubt-Eames would tell _everyone. _

And then someone (maybe Ariadne?) would want to throw him a party. And he _hated_ parties, especially birthday ones.

Yes, Arthur knew what would happen exactly if Eames found out the day he had been born.

That was precisely the reason he had known that Eames had figured it out…somehow.

He had seen the smirk when they went out to dinner last. Eames had gotten off the phone with Cobb, and it was on his face. In seconds, the grin was gone, but it had already launched his suspicions.

And then his phone. 20 new messages today.

Eames really was a terrible singer.

The signs were there. It was official. So with a great deal of reluctance, and courage he didn't even know he possessed, he opened his apartment door.

"SURPRISE!"

Arthur groaned. It was happening. It was really happening. And he couldn't shoot himself to wake up from it.

His arms were soon full of a certain British man. "Do you love it darling? When Cobb accidently told me-"

Cobb gave Arthur an apologetic look. Arthur, full of pity, grudgingly forgave him with a subtle hand gesture. Eames most definitely had beaten it out of him.

"I just had to tell _everyone_. And then Ariadne thought we should throw a party-"

Maybe he could shoot himself...where was his gun...

"And we invited everyone-"

Arthur had had enough. He wanted to end this quickly. "You bought me a hideous Hawaiian t-shirt didn't you?", Arthur said it as though Eames had committed a heinous crime.

Eames was taken aback, but he quickly regained his composure. "How'd you know?"

The point man sighed. He really needed to spend some time away from Eames. He knew him too well. "It's nothing... Do you have any cake?"

After he'd received those barf worthy birthday cards and figured out that compared to Yusuf, Eames sang like Celene Dion, and tried (but did not succeed) to pick off all the candle wax from his antique table, he figured that once again, his birthday had been absolutely dreadful.

Well, maybe not completely.

The cake was good.

* * *

"My shirt okay?" Eames wondered out loud.

"It's fine." Arthur answered. He still hated the floral printed garment, but it was better than what Eames usually walked around in. He turned to his son. "Christopher, get that hair out of your face. I knew we should have taken you to the barber. You look like a hobo."

"Hey!" Christopher said. "I take offense to that!"

"Good" Arthur coolly replied. "Next time we take a family picture, you'll cooperate. Tuck in your shirt."

"Darling, the photographer is ready."

Arthur nodded. "Say cheese everyone."

"Don't blink again like last year, Mom" Christopher added.

Arthur smiled, but Eames sensed danger.

"OW! That's child abuse you know! And you messed my hair up too!"

Click.

* * *

"So what you want for dinner?" Arthur was gone on a business trip.

Christopher didn't take his eyes off his laptop. "Where's the phonebook?"

Eames had been expecting that. He still didn't trust him. "You know we don't have to deliver. I could cook-"

The boss in this level was rather difficult. "No. You. Cooking. No."

"I'm really not that awful, you know. That meatloaf last time was a _bit_ overdone I'll admit..."

Christopher finally looked away from his computer game to give his father a incredulous look. "A _bit_ overdone? Just a bit? Dad, you burnt it to a crisp! Did you conveniently forget the fire alarm going off, smoke everywhere-"

"Enough. I'll get the phonebook."

Hopefully, Christopher thought as he stuffed greasy chow mein in his mouth, his other dad would return soon.

* * *

"Come here."

Christopher went over to the point man.

Arthur adjusted his son's tie. "Hmm. I hope that girl didn't change her dress...again. If we have to return another suit and get a new one one more time...she'll die by my hands."

"Relax, Mom. She said this was the last change..."

"Make sure you stare into her eyes when you dance with her... Girls love when you stare into their eyes when you dance. I mean after that, you won't believe what my prom date was up for after-"

"Stop Dad. Stop before that awful thought gets burned into my memory."

Eames shrugged. It was a shame though. It was a good story.

"My prom date complained too much." Arthur said, remembering the day. "Women. Sometimes they can be just too whiny. I hate whiny people."

As though these were magical words, Eames dramatically grabbed his chest like a dying man. "You don't hate _me_ do you, darling?", Eames whined, pleading into Arthur's eyes.

"Eames-you-" Arthur struggled with the words. He looked away, his face lit up like a tomato. "It's...different."

Eames chuckled triumphantly. Arthur was just too adorable.

"Do you get the corsage on the kitchen table?" Arthur said to Christopher, trying to return to the subject, or perhaps leave the current one.

"Oh yeah! I'll get it!"

* * *

"Sorry I changed my dress again! When I saw the yellow I just knew it was perfect..."

"It's fine Katlin..." but he shot an apprehensive look at his father, pleading for his date's life.

Arthur smiled back. "You look wonderful Katlin."

Bitch.

Noticing the awkwardness, Eames decided it was time he and Arthur left. "Well have fun you two! Don't be out for too long!"

"Be back before curfew!" Arthur added in.

"We will!"

* * *

Christopher strolled in three hours after curfew...to find his parents waiting for him.

Damn. "Oh, Mom about curfew-"

"Was expected but I thought I'd at least try. How was it?"

"It-she-" Christopher gave up. "It sucked."

Eames and Arthur started to get up to leave the room.

"Woah! Where are you guys going? Aren't you going to comfort me about how sucky prom was?"

Eames and Arthur looked at each-other.

"Chris...it always is." Eames explained.

"What? No-not for everyone-"

"Yes for everyone. Everyone has a crappy prom. You're supposed to." Arthur said, as though it was the equivalent of saying please and thank you.

"Even in England." Eames added.

"So you're telling me that my prom sucking...is okay?"(1)

"Not okay, but normal." Arthur replied. "At least you got a nice suit out of it."

* * *

"So? Will you dance with me?"

"I'll bruise your feet from stepping on them so much."

"Darling-"

"Fine! I'll do it. Just don't come crying to me when you have a injured toe."

Saito watched as the parents of the groom entered the dance floor.

He couldn't help but remember his own wedding. The way her eyes lit up when he said her name, her infectious laughter when he made a subtle joke.

They had been happy then, but then she changed.

He changed.

He sighed and took another swig of liquor.

Sometimes he envied how peaceful they seemed, how content they were. He marveled at how they were able to find something he had to search for years for and pay dearly to keep it.

"You guys truly amaze me" he said to himself, and picked up his glass once more.

* * *

(1) Okay...not all proms suck. But I'm having a bit of fun. I mean, something always goes wrong still. No such thing as a perfect prom. And I guess they have proms in England. Different name though and doesn't have the same following as it has in the States, but it isn't unheard of.

* * *

Once again, I hope you had as much fun reading as I had writing it. Sorry for this coming out so late. I wanted to really think more about where I was taking it and I took more time revising. Special thanks to my super awesome beta **sheepsoup, **for pulling this thing together. Couldn't have done it without her. If you know or see her, be sure to say thank to her for me. She is truly wonderful.

Another special thanks to the OP at the kink meme **iheartdraco11**. Thank you for thinking of such a good idea and also for encouraging me to continue. Another special thanks to another person on the meme, **cyberrubis**. Your comments really inspired me to keep on going and to write Moments. Another thanks to anyone who reviewed on here (sorry to anyone reading this again, I missed a word!)or commented on the meme. You are amazing.

If you happen to be reading this the second time(I hope) sorry for the bolding of random words. Not intentional and my mistake. I thought I fixed that...well at least now it is.

This is about it for this story BUT I have one more drabble that I will write. It'll be the ending for the entire series. I'll post it soon.

Thanks for reading!


	3. Epilogue

I'm still not happy with this, but I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks once again to my beta **sheepsoup** for pulling this thing into shape.

* * *

**Timeless**

"Hurry Grandpa hurry! We have to get away from the evil Olaf! Run before he finds us!"

Eames reached the door, scooping up his granddaughter. Staying in character he whispered, "Ramona, did we lose him?"

Her eyebrows furrowed and her small mouth formed a scowl as she surveyed the area. "No...I don't see him...maybe we finally-"

Ramona let out a loud shriek and Eames looked over his shoulder.

"Put me down Grandpa! He found us! He found us!" He watched with a big grin as the small chestnut-haired child scurried towards the stairs.

As she disappeared out of sight, he turned around to face the terrifying villain.

"Honestly, Olaf. You should really leave those poor children alone."

"Creepy bad men like me never learn," Christopher responded with a smirk.

Eames chuckled. "But really Chris...she really has a great imagination."

His son nodded as though he was assuring himself of the words. "It's really a beautiful thing."

Eames noticing how solemn the mood had become, decided to change the subject.

"But that series...I'm surprised she is able to read it at her age."

He didn't just pull that out of his ass to rescue the conversation. When Ramona had first started going off on about the Baudelaires and Count Olaf, he thought it'd be a good idea to read the novels. They were rather challenging for a six year-old. Hell, they were challenging for some pushing closer to seventy.

Christopher laughed as though he knew what Eames was thinking about. "Yes, it's definitely for an older child."

"That's for sure. You know how many times I had to bug Arthur to explain the vocabulary? In all seriousness Christopher, tell me, has she gotten her Mensa letter yet?"

More laughter. It was nice to see he could still make him smile.

"I admit, she is a smart one for her age, but she gets a little help."

"I agree", Eames responded, "Webster is very useful."

"Yeah it is." Christopher was looking at him now. He looked so much like Arthur. "But a dad who reads it to you every night can be too."

Eames was shocked by what Christopher had admitted, but was elated at the same time.

He remembered fondly reading Christopher stories about wizards and teddy bears. Watching him walk for the first time. Holding him in his arms during a thunderstorm.

And now...he looked at his son. He was older now. He couldn't believe he had grown so fast. It was as though the last thirty or so years had flashed in a second. Christopher now...almost seemed alien, unfamiliar. _Was this really the boy he'd carried in his arms?_

He noticed Christopher's thumb lightly graze his five-o'clock shadow.

He inwardly sighed.

Time flew by so fast it always left without you.

He put his hand on Christopher's shoulder.

"Has Arthur gotten here yet?"

"Mom? Uh, I think he went out to get some groceries for Phillipa. She ran out of a few things for dinner tonight."

Eames nodded and looked towards the kitchen. "Are you sure she doesn't need-"

"Help? From _you?_ Best not. If she wants someone to start making the casserole, I'll do it."

Eames chuckled. "After all these years you still don't trust me cooking? I'm hurt."

"Go ahead. When you enter a kitchen, you put everyone's life at risk. I'm doing a public service."

"Yeah, yeah. Sure you are-"

"Grandpa!" Eames turned when he heard Ramona's voice. Her brow was furrowed, and her mouth was stuck in her pout.

It may have been the most adorable thing Eames had ever seen.

"Yes, love?"

"Are you okay down here? Did Olaf catch you?"

Oh yeah, Olaf. Eames had gotten lost in his conversation with Christopher that he forgotten his game.

Lifting his chest like a great maestro on stage, he summoned his most valiant aura. "Not without a fight!" he hollered, to his granddaughter's amusement.

* * *

"Did you have to wear that?" Arthur grimaced. He had gone on errands for Phillipa so early, he hadn't been home to dress Eames. Maybe he should have taken Christopher on his offer to go for him. This was seriously the ugliest outfit he'd ever seen. Past fifty and the man still couldn't dress himself.

"What?" Eames said, looking at his clothing. Patterned t-shirt, white ankle socks, flip flops. "I'm simply dressing my age." He would have worn just the slippers, but his feet were always cold.

"Just because you aren't in your thirties anymore doesn't mean you can dress like a retiree from Florida who leaves his assisted living once a year."

"Now Arthur that horrible." Eames face had quickly turned stern and serious.

Arthur was a bit put-off by the expression. _Had he gone too far?_ Usually Eames didn't-

"Florida is a lovely place", Eames said, finishing his thought.

Arthur groaned. "What is it with you and delayed punch lines these days?"

Eames chuckled. "Some of it's humor, but I think the rest is simply because I'm going batty."

* * *

"Happy 40th Anniversary!"

Arthur blushed. He wasn't used to this attention. And the number. Forty years...that was a long time. He had people coming up to him on marriage advice these days... he didn't know what to say to them. You learn to accept the burnt toast and awful shirts? He couldn't explain it. It was though time had just flown over him or he was put in a time machine. It felt like it'd been a while, but_ forty years?_ Surely that hadn't lasted that long. It was still hard for him to fathom.

But the dinner Phillipa had prepared (with the help of everyone except Eames for medical reasons) was truly splendid. It had the grandeur of a Thanksgiving meal.

He watched how Eames greedily cut off a humongous piece of turkey. _Seriously_, he thought as the man dribbled gravy on the turkey and his ugly shirt, _he is really is a child._

Sighing, Arthur grabbed the fork out of Eames' hand.

"Eames", he said as though he was talking to his granddaughter. "You know you can't eat without taking your medicine first."

And they said that you were supposed to grow out of whining.

"Whatever, just know you aren't touching anything without that medicine down your throat." With that, Arthur went to their bedroom to retrieve it.

* * *

Medicine, medicine, medicine... Where could it be? Arthur scanned the dresser for the orange bottle until something caught his eye.

_How long it been since he had held this?_

He looked at the trinket from afar.

It was definitely worn after use, and the edges were rounded and ill-formed. But its vermillion hue remained as virile as ever, timeless.

In all the dark moments of his life this object had carried him through. How many funerals had he attended with this tight in his grasp, as he said goodbye to the countless friends he had lost on the job? There couldn't be a number. When he felt his life had been falling on him like a deck of cards, this had been his life line, his everything. It was the only thing he could trust to know he was still okay.

He hadn't lost his mind.

You could be taught that they weren't life. You could know from experience on the job how unreal they were. Yet every time, dreams-they leave you wondering if they really were metaphysical at all.

After he had left his job to retire, Arthur had wondered if he hadn't left that confusing dream world. Everything he had hoped for his entire life had suddenly blossomed and bore fruit. It wasn't perfect but sometimes when he was deep in thought, totally consumed in his mind, he questioned whether-

"Hurry up Arthur! What is taking so long over there? Were you able to find it? I'm starving!"

Snapped out of his reverie, Arthur quickly located the medicine. He was about to head back into the dining room, but he could brush the question out of his head.

He was so terrified of the answer he dare not say it out loud.

"Arthur! If you aren't here in a minute I will bite into this turkey regardless if I took my pills!"

Without a second thought, Arthur slid his old totem into the nearby wastebasket.

If it was a dream he knew he'd never want to wake up.

* * *

Thank you to anyone who read this story all the way through or reviewed. Your comments meant a lot. I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it.


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